writing exercise

belly (the grass stains) | portrait of ned

swirling. the clouds above us in different shapes, all the ones that you’ve drawn and all the ones that i asked you to. the clouds keep changing, and we stay stuck to your bowie-themed blanket. the food, the blanket, and you as you are. you just asked me to bring me. i was never good with planning or any sense of awareness, and yet, you haven’t noticed that the grass is staining your jeans, your new ones. i can’t stop focusing on every part of you, and my mind is swirling. i’ve felt bliss before, but you’d seen my shoebox of the feeling and raised me a Nike store. it’s not that you’re less in love with me as i am with you, you just know to act like you’ve been here before. i’ve landed on cloud 9 for the first time, and you have property on it.

i’ve noticed every single cloud that’s passed us by, and i can’t stop focusing on our your hands. small but strong enough to put me in pain for at least 15 minutes if you tried hard enough, but considering you work out essentially the entire week, along with varsity soccer, i don’t think anyone’s surprised. i wore basic grey sweatpants, and the grass isn’t staining mine as much as yours. she just asked me to bring me, all <150 pounds of me. 2pm, we’ve been here for at least an hour. we’re old enough to not need parent supervision, but not old enough to have any idea of what we’re doing.

or at least any idea of what i’m doing.

why am i preaching

to this choir, to this atheist?

swirling. the waves that we look upon, seated on your bowie-themed blanket. i’ve never been drawn to you like i have anyone else, and that drawing has caused me to take on many of your interests and vice versa. yet, it feels like God or Aphrodite or Frank Ocean is causing our similarities to make us act like two positive charges, and as much as we try to draw ourselves closer, we only keep repelling. today, we hit our 6 month anniversary. even before we started dating, we’ve always wanted to go to the beach together when it was late, with a music speaker and just ourselves and our bodies. and so, we did exactly that. drifting, drifting. i put you on to clairo all those years ago, and tonight, we sang our hearts out to every song she’s ever released. i put you on to clairo, and tonight, you put me onto visions of you and i living together by the sea.

this time, i brought the speaker. i’d started working out recently, just to fill the void in my body that you’d so gracefully carved. my body looked better, and you’d never stopped looking like Venus was jealous of you. some things don’t change, and you’d always known my hate of change. the waters were swirling, never once bringing in the same wave, and we didn’t care. we danced and stained each other with water and sand and it made our bodies eventually touching look like nothing. change had seeped into the cracks of our Hoover Dam, and as of right now, only one Hoover Dam is unbroken.

or at least my Hoover Dam is broken.